


PAIN (You Made A Believer)

by DarkAlpha67



Series: Shameless Indulgence- Drabbles [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Baby Yevgeny Milkovich, Big Sister Fiona Gallagher, Comforting Svetlana, Dad!Mickey, Emotional Hurt, Episode AU: s05e12 Love Songs (In the Key of Gallagher), M/M, Mickey Milkovich & Svetlana Milkovich Friendship, No Jail, No Sammi, Sad Mickey Milkovich, Sad-Fluff, Sammi stayed dead!, break-up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-04-03 16:40:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14000268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAlpha67/pseuds/DarkAlpha67
Summary: How it all changed...*AU: A Prologue to the First Part. What would have happened if Sammi never showed up and Mickey never went to jail. (Like it should have been) and ultimately, how Mickey and Ian found their way back to each other.*SUMMARY EDITED : 29/12/18*





	1. Chapter 1

“This is it. This is you breaking up with me.”

Fuck, there was no need to ask. He knew how this would end…

“Yeah.”

He physical felt the impact of the confirmation, felt the way the word was branded onto his heart. It was worse than any bullet or beat down he’d ever taken. Mickey listened in a numb haze as the broken, tired answer from Ian ended more than just their relationship. It ended everything Mickey ever though he could have.

“Really?” He asked, like a desperate man stuck in denial. “ _Fuck…_ ”

His eyes stung from unshed tears and no matter how much Mickey blinked, they wouldn’t stop building. He took in Ian’s paled complexion, the dulled green of his eyes. He wanted to go over there, fucking take the stupid shit by the shirt and screaming in his face that hell fucking no! There was no fucking way Ian was just gonna end it between them. Not after all they’ve been through. Not after everything they’ve overcome to even fucking _be_ together.

He stared back at Ian, desperate for the other boy to just fucking stop this shit, whatever it was.

Ian shrugged once more, sniffling. “It’s better this way, Mick.” He croaked out, feet shuffling back.

“Fuck you, Ian.” Mickey forced out, his voice weak. Clenching his jaw, Mickey shook his head. “Have a great fucking life.”

Then Mickey forced himself to turn away, needing to be one the to walk away from Ian. He needed to have this one, because if he had to watch Ian turn his back on him, eyes remaining unaffected by the broken pieces of their relationship in his wake, Mickey knew it would end him.

The cold wind bit at his cheeks, no longer flushed from anxious excitement like before. The burning sensation in his eyes increased ten-fold but Mickey refused to shed any tears while he walked home. His legs were heavy, every step seemed to weigh him down, further and further.

_Fucking Ian Gallagher._

Mickey had been fucked the moment he met the piece of shit, and since that day, his life had never been the fucking same. Asshole turned his whole world upside down and now he wanted to fucking walk away because things were _hard_.

What the fuck had he done that Ian thought this shit with his mind would end their relationship? Mickey had tried to be there for him, fucking hell, he forced himself not be a pussy and to not say ‘fuck it’ to the whole thing, but to deal with this shit, because he loved Ian. And for Mickey, who’d only ever loved his sister and brothers that met fucking sticking around no matter what shit went down.

“Mickey!”

“Fuck off!” He yelled over his shoulder, not even bothering to turn around to see who called him.

He couldn’t deal with other people’s shit right now, and fuck, if someone was gonna fucking bother him Mickey was gonna vent all this fucked up shit out on them and he feared he might end up back in Jail when all this anger and pain finally got worked off.

“Hey! Mickey!” The voice called, closer, and Mickey froze.

With a distressed crinkle between his eyebrows, Mickey slowly turned, looking over his shoulder. He felt his resolve shudder as he took in the flare of brown hair swaying from side to side, the familiar wide eyed expression on her face as she ran over to him.

“Fucking, hell.” He sighed under his breath, gritting his teeth together as a spike of annoyance shot through him. “What the fuck do you want now, huh?” He spat out, glaring at Fiona Gallagher as she came to stop before him, chest heaving and grey mist leaving her mouth.

“Jesus, fuck.” She panted, her big eyes running over him, and sinking feeling filled Mickey’s gut. He’d seen that look before, fuck it had never been directed at him but he’d seen that look and if she was looking at him like that…

“I heard what happened.” Fiona said, her lips tugging up into a weak, broken smile.

Mickey scoffed in distaste. “It ain’t got fuck all to do with you. Now fuck off.” He made a move to turn around when a hand grabbed the fabric of his thick jacket and tugged him back. Mickey smacked her hand away, blue eyes flaring with anger and pain.

“Look, Ian is just---“

“Don’t fucking tell me what Ian is or isn’t.” Mickey cut her off, tone steely. “He know he said and I know what it meant. The fuck you trying to change that, huh?” He asked Fiona.

Fiona’s eyes widened like it always did whenever she spoke to Mickey. He saw the distrust and caution in her expression on a daily basis. No matter the shit that happened between them, or hell between him and Ian, she always saw him as Milkovich scum, nothing more than a filth carrying cockroach that had invaded her home unclean and unwanted.

“I know.” Fiona said, nodding subtly. “I know he said some shit to you, probably ripped your heart out while doing it.” She cocked her head to the side, the cautious look in her eyes softening to something that resembled comfort.

“And what? You want me to ignore him?” Mickey asked, tone mocking as he gestured with his hand toward the general direction of the Gallagher house. “Want me to wait around like some desperate bitch for him to pull his head outta his ass? That what you fucking want?”

“Jesus Christ, kid, you got a whole lotta anger going on in there.” Fiona exhaled, lifting her hands to run through her hair, messing it up further. Mickey hated the fact that he noticed the lack of dark circles under her eyes, hated that he knew she was internally thinking through everything before speaking to him just by the way she ran her fingers through her hair.

Fucking hell, this was what being with Ian fuckin’ Gallagher did to him. The piece of shit ruined him for all fucking eternity.

Needing to get the fuck away from Fiona and what she stood for, Mickey sneered out. “If you’re done with this pointless shit—“

“No, I’m not.” Fiona cut him off sharply.

“Fuck.” Mickey exhaled. “Look, your asshole of a brother just ended our relationship, only fucking one I’ve ever been in. Now I don’t know how you deal with shit, but me, I’d like to get shit faced and forget about this whole fucking day, so if you can say whatever the fuck it is you need to say so you can fucking sleep better at night, then spit it the fuck out.”

Fiona blinked once before swallowing thickly. Nodding, she said. “Okay. You’re right.” She ran a hand over her face before shoving it into the pockets of her jacket, her wide brown eyes locked firmly with his. “Ian hurt you and I’m probably the last person you want to see right now, but we Gallagher’s have a knack for fucking up everything that’s good in our lives.”

Mickey bit his tongue, knowing that by adding and speaking his fucking mind would just prolong this whole thing. He wanted to scoff and rolls his eyes at her words because the last thing he would ever see himself as was ‘good’ for Ian. There was nothing good about him and he fucking hated the fact that deep down inside, he didn’t really blame Ian for giving up on him. He already got shit to deal with, he didn’t need Mickey burdening him with his fucked up problems.

Fiona continued. “And fucking hell, what he said was shit to you, and I know he didn’t mean it…”

“Why the fuck do you care?” Mickey spoke over her, eyes narrowed suspicious.

“Because you stuck around.” She answered. “You stayed when everyone thought you wouldn’t. Because you loved my brother in a way I didn’t understand but that I now see was fucking amazing.” Her eyes started glimmering, her voice croaking near the end. “Because, we’ve cared about people for far less and there is no fucking way, that you aren’t important to us. Not after everything.”

“I don’t want you fucking pity.” Mickey told her, jaw clenching as he forced himself not to react to her words.

“And I’m not giving it.”

“Then what the fuck do you expect to happen here? You think you can talk me down and I’m gonna think everything through and realize that Ian ain’t in his right mind? You think I’m gonna stick around and take that shit?”

There was no way he was gonna go through what just happened again. It killed him every time Ian walked away from him.

“No, I don’t, Mickey.” Fiona’s gave him a watery smile, shaking her head.

And that fucking threw him.

“Look, you said it yourself. You got shit to deal with. Got a kid back home that will need a father.” She nodded as if trying to convince him of Yevgeny’s existing.

He fucking knew he had baby back at his place, probably screaming his fucking lungs out at this very second but the thought of having to going back there after having to deal with that shit…

“And Ian isn’t in his right mind. And the last thing you two need is to ruin each other with the hope that you’re gonna work stuff out.” Mickey’s blue eyes flashed in pain but Fiona carried on. “We both know that isn’t how life works. It doesn’t fuck you over then hand you this life line to pull you out of the deep end. You gotta take yourself out. And that’s what both you and my brother need to do, without each other.”

His fingers twitched for a cigarette. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, able to form proper words. Unable to tell Fiona where she could shove her useless fucking advice!

“You done?” Mickey finally asked her, his voice mono-toned.

She paused, eyes running over him but Mickey kept his expression blank. He felt drained, weak and numb in way he hadn’t felt before. He tried reaching for any anger and pain or bitterness but he didn’t have the fucking energy to speak much less think clearly.

“Yeah…” Fiona sighed sadly. “Just… Call me or anyone if you need anything okay.”

Mickey scoffed and turned around. He didn’t need or want fucking anything from them. He was done. Fucking done.


	2. Chapter 2

Mickey hadn’t left his room for three days. He woke up in a darkened room, his stained curtains drawn, letting in no light, with a sandwich and a glass of water on the small rickety bedside cabin. He knew it from Svetlana because he’d listened to her walk around his room while he pretended to sleep, picking up the beers can that littered the floors, no word of complaint leaving her lips.

Yev had started making babbling noises. Mickey had discovered this on his first night back after the end of his relationship with Ian. The kid had seen Mickey enter and instantly started babbled nonsense, reaching out with chubby arms, wide blue eyes zoned in on Mickey.

Svetlana had moved to hand the baby over when Mickey had spat out, “Get that kid the fuck away from me,” before stalking to his room and slamming the door shut behind him, ignoring the screeching cry that followed.

Mickey had been too tired and broken to feel much of anything that night. Falling on his bed, fully clothed he remained there, motionless, staring at the empty space beside for who knows how fucking long. The next thing he knew, he was waking up to a wet, tears soaked pillow and a craving for alcohol.

There was a crash from outside and a Russian curse that followed.

Mickey sat up groggily, wincing at the stabbing pain that sliced through his head. Blindly, he reached out for the half empty bottle of beer, drowning it in one gulp before grabbing and shoving the sandwich into his mouth, the taste of stale bread doing nothing for him. Within three bites, the food was gone and Mickey was left in silence once again.

His mind drifted back to Ian, like it always did when he woke up seeking the warm body he’d become so used to feeling pressed against him. Cold green eyes and a dulled voice echoed through his ears.

_“Yeah...”_

Feeling the familiar sting of his eyes, Mickey cursed and pushed himself up off the bed, stumbling to the bathroom to take a leak. He ignored looking at the mirror as he washed his hands and brushed his teeth, gargling the disgusting taste of morning breathe and alcohol out of his mouth.

His bedroom door creaked open just as he stepped out and a high pitched giggle broke the cold silence.

Yevgeny’s gummy smile grew as he saw Mickey, arms stretched out for his father. Exhausted blue eyes looked away from the baby, meeting Svetlana’s concerned stare.

“He miss you.” She said to him.

Mickey, biting his lip, recalled Fiona’s words. His eyes moved back Yev and he let out a sigh. Closing the distance in two short steps, Mickey’s hands wrapped around the tiny body, pulling him into his arms and against his chest. Resting Yevgeny’s weight on his forearms, Mickey moved toward his bed and sat down.

Yevgeny pressed into him, head butting Mickey in an attempt to burrow deeper into the embrace.

“He cry for you.” Svetlana commented from here she stood before him, having not moved an inch since Mickey took Yev.

Mickey ignored her in favour of Yev. Pulling back slightly, he met those big blue orbs that sparkled with innocent joy, took in the small indentation on the kid’s left cheek as he smiled at Mickey. Leaning in, Mickey brushed his lips against his son’s forehead, pressing two short kissing on the heated soft skin.

“Where is Orange Boy?”

Mickey tensed up, swallowing down the lump in his throat. “Gone.”

“Where?”

“The fuck should I know?” Mickey asked her, yet his eyes remained on Yevgeny. “He fucking left and that’s all you need to fucking know.”

“So he not coming back?”

“For fuck—“ Mickey’s head snapped over to her, glaring heatedly. “You know what the fuck I meant, don’t fucking act like a stupid bitch!”

He felt Yev jump in his arm, startled at the tone of his voice and Mickey tightened his hold on him, hand sprawling over his back, rubbing slow soothing circles.

Svetlana narrowed her eyes, tilting her head up.

Mickey sighed. “Look, he left and he ain’t coming back. And the last thing I want to do is fucking talk to _you_ about this shit, alright?” He raised his eyebrows at her. “I can—I can take care of the kid for the day if you got shit to do.”

A hardened expression morphed into one of shock. “You take care of baby? Alone?”

“Sure. Can’t be that hard, right?” He shrugged. “Fucker sleeps and can entertain himself most of the day. All I gotta do his wipe his ass and smile every now and then.”

There was a pause before Svetlana snorted, rolling her eyes as small smile slowly grew on her face. “You are stupid piece of shit.”

If Mickey didn’t know any better, he could have sworn she almost sounded fucking fond when she said that.

“And you’re a nagging cunt. Guess we even each other out.”

“Fuck you.”

Mickey felt his lips tug up into a smile before it dropped a second later. Slowly, the numbness crept up within him and, with the desire to be left alone returning, Mickey turned his attention back to Yev, letting the kid scratch and grab at the three day stumble covering his jaw.

He caught movement from the corner of his eye and felt the bed sink beside him. He refused to look at Svetlana or acknowledge her presence, knowing she was gonna try and talk to him about Ian. He didn’t know how the fuck it happened, how he went from hating the woman beside him to thinking of her as some kind of friend. She was the mother of his kid, and Mickey respected the shit out of her for doing everything in her power to make sure Yevgeny was taken care of, proving to everyone that had looked at her with disgust that she was more than just a whore.

“You miss him?”

Mickey didn’t reply.

“You think you no good without him?” Svetlana pushed.

“Fuck off.” He turned, glaring over at her. “I told you I didn’t want to fucking talk about it. What part of that didn’t you fucking understand?”

Her expression remained unaffected. “I think you’re sad. Because you love Orange Boy and he throw you away like piece of trash, yes?”

_“I need the shit-talking, bitch-slapping, piece of south side trash I fell for.”_

“You need to shut the fuck up.” Mickey warned her.

Svetlana clenched her jaw and he could see the hesitation in her eyes, a lingering fear of what would happen to her and her son if she overstepped. Mickey remembered all the times he’d threatened to kick her out of the house, pregnant and without money, if she didn’t do as he said. He felt fucking sick, thinking back on it now.

“If you love someone, you do not throw them away.” Svetlana glared over at him and Mickey kept his mouth shut, refusing to admit that a small part of him wanted to know what she had to say. “Before Yevy, love was stupid, useless shit. Now, love more important than anything. I won’t throw him away.”

“It ain’t the same fucking thing.”

“No? Love is love. Man-Women. Man-Man. Mother-Baby, no difference. When love is strong and real, you stay. He not stay.” Her tone softened near the end and Mickey caught a glimmer of pain in her eyes. “You love him. You stay. You are good man, even if you are a piece of shit.”

A snort let him before he could stop himself. “Fuck you too, Svet.”

“It’s truth.” She shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. Pausing, Svetlana’s gaze shifted down to Yev whom had shifted during the whole conversation, resting his head on Mickey’s shoulder, tiny fingers fiddling with Mickey’s ‘FUCK’ hand.

“Don’t you have shit do you?” Mickey asked, changing the topic.

With one last heeded stare, Svetlana nodded and stood up from the bed. “I go to bar. Help V and Kev.”

“The fuck for?” Mickey asked, head tilting back as he followed her with his eyes.

Svetlana shrugged. “Thinking of change. I help in bar.” She leaned down, her hair brushing against his face causing Mickey to grimace and lean back as she kissed Yevgeny on the cheek and forehead, muttering to him in Russian.

Then, she turned to him and before Mickey could stop her, she pressed her lips against his cheek. Pulling back, she looked him in the eyes with a menacing expression. “Forget Orange Boy. No good crying over milk on floor, yes?”

Scoffing, Mickey rolled his eyes. “It’s ‘spilt milk’.”

“Cause it’s on the floor.” She stated, moving away from him. Yev moved his head on Mickey’s shoulder, looking at his mother as she stepped through to door. Stopping Svet turned to look at him. “You no cry over piece of shits. He do not deserve tears.”

And then she walked away, leaving Mickey alone with her words hanging over his fucking head. He knew he shouldn’t have fucking said anything to her. People always gotta try and comfort you by telling you someone ain’t worth the trouble, which was bullshit. Ian was everything to him and Mickey felt no shame in crying over the fact he lost that. He hated the fact that people fucking knew about it but he wasn’t ashamed crying over it.

If there was one thing Ian had taught him was that expressing what you felt didn’t made you weak or a pussy. It made it fucking strong and brave in a way that fists and the ability to take a beating never would.

A wet mouth pressed against his jaw and Mickey pulled back to see Yev staring up at him, gums shining with spit. Mickey lifted his free hand, placing one crooked finger in the kid’s mouth, watching as he started gnawing at it.

“This shit’s gonna stop when you start getting teeth.” Mickey told him.

Yev looked up, tiny hands grabbing onto Mickey’s to keep it in place.

“You get it right?” Micky asked, frowning at Yevgeny. “You don’t think I’m some pussy for crying over Ian?” Yev paused at the sound of Ian’s name, his light eyebrows pulling together in confusion. “Yeah, I know. I miss him too.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating this story, I haven't watched Shameless in a while and that had affected how I write the stories. The characterizations were off for me and I didn't want to post work that I wasn't confident about.

Mickey, like the fucking idiot that he was, thought that after the end of his relationship with Ian that that was it. And for a week, that was what it felt like too. He looked after the kid, tried looking for work when it started settling in that he actually had a fucking life to live.

He needed a job, and Svetlana had already made it clear that she was not going to raise her son through crime.

_“Just became we are fucked, does not mean he will be.”_

So he was left to look for people who wanted a high-school drop out with a juvie record so long he might as well consider it extra fucking credit if he ever wanted to join a fucking gang. Iggy stopped by but only to say he found some chick somewhere and was gonna be crashing with her for a bit.

Mickey didn’t ask nor did he care.

After a week of listing to straight up ‘sorry we ain’t hiring’ bullshit lines, he gave up trying to look for legit work. Mickey assumed that was where his problems started and ended until he was woken up one night by a loud knock.

He considered ignoring. It was probably either a cop paying him a visit about shit he wouldn’t give two shits about or some asshole who would hopefully get the message after a while and fuck off.

Then a voice called out. “Mickey!”

The second he heard her voice, he was up and out of the bed. His mind raced with reasons as to why she was here and all he could picture was Ian’s numb, listless eyes. He caught sight of Svetlana in Mandy’s cold room, her hair messy and her eyes sleepy.

“Go back to sleep.” Mickey told her, padding across the house to the front door. He pulled open the door, eyes dropping down to the pale tear stained face and messy red hair. “Fuck you want, Debbie?”

He forced himself not to sound too worried. Debbie Gallagher sniffed, and as she shifted her weight, he noticed the bag slung over her shoulder. “Can I stay here tonight?”

Mickey’s eyes widened in shock. “What? Fuck no!”

He leaned out the door, eyes scanning the streets looked for the other Gallagher’s that he knew was bound to show up soon. He’d worked so fucking hard to avoid those assholes. The last thing he needs right now to an awkward reunion with their brother’s ex-boyfriend who he left the second he had a reason to.

“Please?” She begged, her brown eyes tearing up again and a few droplet rolled down her red, flushed cheeks. “I don’t want to live there anymore.”

“Why the fuck not?” He asked, confused as hell. She shook her head and before she could start bawling her eyes out in front of him and no doubt attack him with a hug. “Alright, alright. Jesus. Get the fuck in here.” He stepped aside and Debbie practically ran in.

Shaking his head in bewilderment, Mickey closed the door behind him and walked cautiously toward her. “Uh, you want something? A beer or…”

Debbie laughed, wiping her face. “I can’t drink alcohol anymore.”

Mickey raised his eyebrows. “Uh, okay, coffee?”

“That too.”

Okay, now he was fucking confused. With a scrunched up expression, Mickey eyed the way Debbie lifted her small back pack onto the couch, the zipper close to bursting open from the amount of shit she stuffed in there. She was still in her pajamas too.

“What the fuck do you want then?” Mickey asked.

Big brown eyes looked up. “Can I stay with you for a while?”

He bit back the reflex ‘fuck no’ and forced out. “How long?”

A hesitant pause followed. Swallowing thickly, Debbie muttered out. “Nine months.”

Mickey felt his mouth open, at the ready to spew out words that he had yet to think, but all that came out was silence. He stood there, lip parted, eyebrows crinkled in shock, staring down at Debbie as she picked at her nails and chewed on her lip. He glanced down, eyes scanning for a stomach he knew should be there but her baggy shirt engulfed her figure.

“You’re knocked up?” He asked, finally finding his voice only for it to sound lacking in shock and emotion.

She nodded, eyes fixed on her hands. Mickey grunted in annoyance, both at Debbie for bring this shit to his house and at himself for giving a fuck about her. Running a hand over his face in an attempt to clear the thousands of thoughts raging around in his face, Mickey found himself crosses over the room, heading for the kitchen.

He yanked open the fridge, pulling of the first beer he found, twisting the cap before taking a large gulp. Mickey glanced over to Debbie, glaring over her red head, trying to come up with some sort of plan.

He could call Fiona, have her come pick her fucking sister up but Debbie said she didn’t want to live at that house anymore, which clearly meant big sister wanted her to abort the baby. Not that Mickey fucking blamed Fiona, who had to raise most of her siblings…

Ian once said that he felt sorry for Fiona. Said Fiona didn’t think she’d ever have a life until Liam turned 18, and that by then most of her life would be over.

Then again, he could always just not get involve, let Debbie crash at his place, rather than some stranger’s house and just let the shitty cards fall where they fucking may.

Grunting, Mickey pushed himself off the kitchen counter, padding over to the couch and dropping down a good distance away from the girl.

“Who’s the father?”

Debbie shrugged. “Some kid at school.”

Mickey nodded, taking another sip of his beer. “He know you’re pregnant?”

She nodded.

“He care?” Mickey asked, keeping his tone as cold as possible. Might as well get this shit out of the way.

His eyes dropped when Debbie sniffed, noticing her quivering lips and immediately knew the answer to that stupid fucking question. He wanted to tell her to stop crying, that there was no point in wasting her tears on shit she wasn’t planning on changing, but he didn’t. That was the Milkovich way of dealing, not the Gallagher.

“Please?” Debbie turned to him, tears running down her blotchy cheeks. “She’s told me that if I planned on keeping the baby then I can’t stay there and I had nowhere else to go.”

Mickey snorted. “Nowhere else, huh?”

What fucking kid comes to a Milkovich house, thinking everything would all right? A Gallagher, that’s fucking who. Bunch of dumb motherfuckers…

With teary brown eyes pleading with him, Mickey sighed, closing his eyes in disbelief. “Fuck… Fuckin’ fine you can stay here.” He ignored the way her shoulder sank in relief. “But I ain’t getting fucking involved with this, okay. I’mma text Fiona, tell her you’re here and then I’m out.” He gave her serious look.

Debbie opened her mouth, about to protest when Mickey cut her off with a stern expression. “That wasn’t an option.” He informed her.

She sighed and gave a shaky nod. With nothing else to do, Mickey reached over to place his beer on the small table before them, before snatching up her bag and standing up. He walked past her and headed for his room, listening for the footstep that followed after him a beat later. Walking in, Mickey dumped her back by the foot of his bed, turning to face the little Gallagher.

“You’re sleeping in here. I’ll take the couch.”

She nodded, exhaustion clear in her red rimmed eyes. Sniffing, she shuffled over to her bag while Mickey turned and pulled off the thin top blanket and a pillow for himself. He grabbed his cell phone from the bed shelf.

Mickey turned around, heading for the door.

“Thanks, Mickey.” A shaky voice whisper, huskier than usual.

Looking over his shoulder, Mickey eyed the little girl as she crawled onto his bed and curled into her side, facing him. “Don’t worry about it, kid.”

He didn’t look back as he made his way to his new bed, getting comfortable on the piece of his shit furniture. Grunting, he laid there on his back, a black pooling over his lower waist and the cell phone in his hand. He knew, if he texted Fiona, she would either come over right now or she would haul ass over here first thing tomorrow morning. Either way, he was gonna have to deal with her.

Sighing, he flipped open his cell and shot her a quick text.

_**Debbie is here. Shes fine.** _

He didn’t have to wait long before his cell pinged.

_Thnx Mickey._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still unsure about Franny. I would very much appreciate it you'd leave your opinions on the matter <3 it would be a great help as I am not sure if Debbie should have a baby or if living with Mickey would change her mind on it.


	4. A Step In The Right Direction

He woke up to plates clanking, metal against metal and hands slapping his cheek. Groaning, Mickey batted the hand away, face scrunching up in annoyance.

“Jesus, fuck…” He groaned under his breath, two seconds away from rolling over and drowning out the fucking noise when a weight dropped on his chest, following by a giggle. “What the—“ He opened his eyes, met those wide blue ones, all big and innocent with his chubby face all mushed together in a grin.

“Bah!” A hand slapped his face, this time nailing him right in the fucking eye.

“Jesus fuck.” He glared at Yevgeny for a second, hand dropping his the little squirt’s back to keep him in place as he shifted, looking around the couch. His eyes landed on Debbie and Svet. “Aye! Shut the fuck up!” He yelled out, his voice hoarse from sleep.

Yevgeny giggled as if this whole thing was all a big fucking comedy sketch. He gurgled, blowing out a spit bubble that popped, leaving the drool to trail down onto Mickey’s shirt. Grunting in anger, Mickey tightened his hold on the kid and sat up, glaring at the two fucking assholes.

“Why the fuck are you up?” He asked, pissed off.

“Was hungry.” Svet answered. “Yevvy wanted you.” She shrugged from where she stood by the counter, taking a sip from her cup. He saw the fucking smirk on her lips.

“I’m making French toast!” Debbie pipped up.

“With fucking what? We ain’t got shit.”

Which was lie but it’s too fucking early for this shit. He wanted to sleep, head back to his little peace bubble where nothing bothers him. This was what he got for letting a Gallagher into his house. Yevgeny patted his chest to get his attention and Mickey, with no other choice, forced himself to stand up. The kid laughed at change in position, why it was funny Mickey didn’t know nor did he care. He just grunted and shuffled over to the counter, putting the kid into his highchair near the kitchen counter before heading over to make himself some coffee.

He ignored the little whine behind him, turning to eye Debbie with distaste. She looked way too fucking comfortable here and the thought of having to deal with this happy shit every fucking morning gave him a headache.

He liked his space, fuck he preferred it. The only other person he allowed and wanted anywhere near him wasn’t gonna be around anymore. Which meant Mickey was back to his usual isolated self.

“You take care of baby today, yes?”

His mind snapped back to the present like a stretched out rubber band being released. Mickey turned and frowned at Svet. “What the fuck for? Where you gonna be?”

“Work.”

“Again?” He asked, not believing her.

She nodded, giving him a smug smile. “I help more now. The money is good.”

Well, if it meant they were gonna be getting a little more cash, then who the fuck was Mickey to complain? He looked over to Debbie, mentally debating for second before opening his mouth. “You can watch the kid today.”

The spatula and toast she was busy flipping dropped. She spun around, her brown eyes wide when they fell on him. “What? Why me?”

Mickey snorted, taking a large gulp of his coffee. “ ‘Cause you ain’t gonna be living here for free.” He shot her a careless smirk. “You wanna have that baby, you gotta learn to take care of one. Might as well start with that.” He gestured with his cup to Yevgeny, who was sucking of his pacifier that he got from somewhere.

“ _That?_ You mean your child?” Debbie frowned at him, her eyes all judgemental like a true fucking Gallagher.

“You’re looking after him, is all I’m saying.” Mickey said, not bothering to respond to the comment.

“And why can’t you do it?” She went back to flipped the toast, the smell making Mickey’s mouth water and his stomach tighten. Shit, when last did he eat? He couldn’t recalled if he ate yesterday.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Svetlana setting her cup down, eyes fixed on him obnoxiously, waiting for his answer too. He knew she was gonna have some shit to say if she didn’t like what she heard, and as much as Mickey wanted to fuck with her, tell her he was gonna go to the Alibi and get wasted, he didn’t.

Instead, he replied. “Gotta go find some work.”

She practically perked up at that fucking shit. “You go find work? Real work?”

“I always fucking had real work, bitch. I just ain’t in the mood to steal shit right now.”

Plus with Iggy gone and his brothers having fuck off to somewhere, he didn’t have the man power to pull it off. So all that left was trying to find something else to do. In the back of his mind he knew the true motive behind him wanting a job and he fucking hated the fact that it was because of Fiona Fucking Gallagher. Though she loved sticking her nose in other people’s business, mainly her brothers and sister, she had a point. He needed to take care of Yevgeny and, fuck it, Svetlana too.

But in order to do that, he had to get a job. Thank fuck he knew a guy who worked at some garage. It’s the one dude, the Milkovich’s hadn’t screwed over over the years, simply because there hadn’t been a reason to. He and Iggy got on well cause Iggy always need something fixed and Jeff never questioned where or how Iggy got the car.

Hopefully the guy needed some extra hands.

“Okay.” Debbie spoke up, eyes lowering, zoning in on her stomach before they shifted to Yevgeny. “I’ll take care of him.” She nodded, looking over to him with promising eyes.

Mickey raised his eyebrows. “You don’t have a fucking choice.”

 

*

 

“Sorry, Mickey. I ain’t got work for you.” Jeff said, giving him those sad eyes.

“Bullshit.” Mickey looked around, seeing the bikes parked around, three people walking up and down with grease on their clothes. Some chick with tattoos looked over at him curiously and Mickey turned back to Jeff. “Look, you know I ain’t gonna start shit.”

Jeff scoffed. “That right? I’m supposed to trust a Milkovich not to fuck me over.”

Biting on his inner cheek to stop himself from saying ‘fuck it’ and getting the fuck out of here, Mickey exhaled, crossing his arms over his chest. He needed a job and if he didn’t get this one, he had to go looking for people that Terry knew and that’s the last fucking thing he wanted to do.

“Look, man.” Mickey shifted, dropping his arms, wringing his hands anxiously. “I ain’t gonna do shit. I got a kid to care of now and I really fucking need to get money. I’ll mop the fucking floors if I have to.”

Jeff looked at him with something akin to utter disbelief and mildly impressed. “You gonna mop my floors?”

Irritating coursed through him as the question. Jeff was fucking with him, seeing how far he can push Mickey. Everything in him wanted to throw a punch, to show this guy he wasn’t to be fucked with but Mickey knew his default shit wasn’t gonna fly so he swallowed his fucking pride. He wasn’t gonna fuck his life over again just ‘cause Ian didn’t want shit to do with him anymore.

“If I have to.” He forced out, trying real fucking hard not to glare at the motherfucker.

Jeff pressed his lips together, eyeing Mickey for too fucking alone. After a few breathes, Mickey was glaring at the fucking asshole. He gritted his teeth, waiting for him to open his fucking mouth and just answer him. It wasn’t that hard of a decision for fuck’s sake.

After way too fucking long, Jeff exhaled. “Fuck it, why not? Some back tomorrow morning to mop the floors and then we’ll see from there.”

Forcing himself not to show his relief, Mickey nodded. “Thanks, man.” He reached out a hand, remembering Ian saying how it was respectful or some shit like that.

The surprised look on Jeff’s face was so fucking worth it and Mickey bit back his smug grin. Jeff took his hand, eyeing the tattoos on his fingers as they shook hands. Before he can change his mind about the whole thing, Mickey took his hand back and with one last nod, he turned around and walked away.

He did. He actually fucking did it.

He got a fucking job.

 

*

 

Later that night, when he was sure every single person in the house was dead to the outside world, he scrolled through his few contacts, eyes searching for one specific name. When he found it, his heart tightened and his gut twisted with fear and an overwhelming need to protect someone who wasn’t there.

Clearing his throat, he pressed call and brought the phone to his ear.

It rang on with no response and a heavy weight dropped in his gut.

When he got the dial-tone and the voice telling him to leave a message, Mickey cleared his throat, raking through his mind for something to say.

Finally, he settled for. “Hey, it’s Mickey. You gotta answer you fucking phone, you know I hate leaving this shit.” He paused to lick his lips nervously. “Anyway, I, uh, I got a job today. So there’s that shit to look forward to hold over me if you ever come back. Uh, call me, a’ight. I’m worried over here.” He pulled his phone way, finger hovering over the end call button when he suddenly brought it back to his ear, voice rough as he added. “I’ll come pick you up if you need me. But you gotta call me so I know you’re okay. Alright, watch yourself out there, Mandy. Bye.”

He ended the call with his heart in his throat. He tried swallowing down the thick lump as images of her busted up face flashed before his eyes. He hated how powerless he felt, hating that he didn’t to shit to stop that fucking shit stain from touching his sister.

Abuse was normal for them. They’d grown up with a father who fucking them up daily, leaving scars so deep the shit still hurt long after they were healed up. He didn’t know what to do at the time, and Mandy would have fucking hated him if he’d killed that motherfucker.

He just fucking hoped she called him back. He needed to know she was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding Mickey's behaviour toward Yevgeny, it will vary as he's still trying to be there for him and care for him while also working through the trauma of how he was conceived. This story will focus on him slowly learning to see Yevgeny as his son in an emotional sense and not just biological if that makes sense.
> 
> Ian did help a great deal to improve his relationship with Yevgeny so he will have some sweet moments with him as well as cold moments.
> 
> On the side, is it right to assume Yevgeny is around a year during season 6? I am not really sure on the time line.
> 
> Thoughts are appreciated <3\. And Have A Happy New Year!!

**Author's Note:**

> So I thought I'd write a story of how the family came to be as the one you saw In part one. I'm a sucker for angst and I needed Mickey to focus on himself after all that happened with Ian and for me, before Ian and Mickey and Svet could be that comfortable with one another, i think Mickey and Svet have to work on their "relationship" because then she'd always just be Yev's mom and the woman that got between them.
> 
> * 
> 
> Like I said, hit me up on Tumblr at 'Jaceforreal' if you have any shameless prompts for me. Doesn't have to be about this verse, it can be anything. Just nothing explicit please.


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